Human Quarter
by Jowls
Summary: An interrogation room - two people on opposite ends of a divide. Can compromise be reached or is it just a futile effort.


INTERROGATION ROOM – DAY 1.

It is the cleanest room you could possibly imagine, so much so it makes the eyes ache to look at it. In the center of the room are a table and two chairs.

Seated in the chair furthest from the door is a woman. She is handcuffed, filthy, scratched and bruised. Across from her sits the interrogator. His face is entirely devoid of any expression as the woman fidgets, clearly not comfortable. By his left elbow is a briefcase, on top of which lies a sheet of paper. It is titled HUMAN EMOTIONAL RESPONSE.

'You were found in sector 4, just south of Sheffield.' The interrogator's impassive mask does not falter as he looks at the women and waits for her response.

The Woman leans forward, fists clenched, refusing to be intimidated.

'What does that matter?'

Refusing to acknowledge her question he continues. 'No one was with you?'

'No.'

The Interrogator glances at the sheet of paper and then back at the Woman, carefully appraising her face, her body language, everything.

She stares back defiantly. 'You don't believe me.'

'No. Lying is simply in your nature.'

'Is that what your list tells you?' She nods her head towards the paper.

Again he ignores her question. 'Why were you in sector 4? Answer the question please.'

'Trust me, that isn't important.'

'Why were you in sector 4?'

Seeing that he will not give an inch, she relents a little. 'Waiting. I was waiting.'

'For a person?'

'For one of you.'

They look each other directly in the eye. The Interrogator's remain as dark and inscrutable as ever but the Woman's are alight with a sudden excitement.

'I see.'

He stands up, picks up the piece of paper and slips it back into his briefcase.

'You'll be taken back to the Human Quarter in the morning.'

'Aren't you going to ask me why I was looking for one of you, trespassing in your precious sector 4?

'No.'

The Woman sits up, struck by a sudden realization. 'You don't need to ask because you already know.'

'Yes.'

The Woman is alarmed now and her eyes become wild as she looks towards the door and back again.

'Where is Luke?'

'You will be returned to the Human Quarter in the morning.' And with that the interrogator leaves.

INTERROGATION ROOM - NEXT DAY

It is the same room, the same woman handcuffed to the same chair and the same interrogator seated across from her. He does not have the paper with him this time. The Woman has wounds to her face and body that were not present before.

'I have no interest in your propaganda.' He states as he takes the seat opposite.

She looks at him tiredly; shoulders slumped, bereft of her previous fire.

'You believe it is propaganda to tell you the truth about your existence?'

'It is propaganda to distort the truth, yes.'

'Just listen, okay? That's all we want. We created you and..'

He interrupts 'To be slaves.'

'Don't you think we've been punished enough?'

The Interrogator rises to his feet, never taking his steely gaze off her, bringing their conversation firmly to an end.

'Punishment? You have no idea, none whatsoever. Nothing we have ever done has been to punish you.'

INTERROGATION ROOM - SOME TIME LATER.

The Woman and the Interrogator face off again. The Woman's right arm is in a cast and her clothes are caked with dried blood.

The Interrogator is standing by the wall near the door, expression impassive as always.

'Why?'

'You lied to me.'

'I didn't lie.'

'You said nothing any of you have done was to punish us. That is clearly a lie.' She indicates her arm. He glances at it but offers no other reaction.

'As I recall, you were not referring to violence.'

'Then what was I referring to? Enlighten me!' Frustration is clear in her voice as a tear escapes the corner of her eye.

'You meant the fact that you live in a designated area, and are used for what you all deem to be "menial" tasks.'

'Tell me how that isn't meant to be a punishment? Admit it, you all hate human beings! This is your revenge!'

The interrogator shakes his shakes. 'Hate is a human emotion.'

The Woman laughs but her eyes remain frightened.

'Nothing we've done is out of hate.'

'Then what was it done for?' The Interrogator smiles. The Woman recoils in distaste, it

is so forced and unnatural.

'The truth is that we don't need people to do manual labor. There are plenty of more remedial machine models - the ones you originally conceived in your greed and laziness - to do them for us.' He pauses, allowing her to digest this information.

'We don't need to give you housing'

The Woman's face contorts at the word and screeches 'Slums!'

'Or food or anything.' Again he pause, places his hands on the table to lean forward before continuing. 'You're all here out of...pity.'

She shakes her head in disbelief. 'Pity is also human emotion.'

'Humans never were capable of understanding how we think. Their own creation. I always found that rather pathetic.'

The Woman glares at him, her fury of several days ago returning at his scornful words.

The Interrogator merely crosses to the door, opens it but does not leave the room. He turns back.

'You'll be taken to the Island in the morning.'

The Woman's face becomes one of horrified dismay as the door closes behind him.

.


End file.
